


A Slice of Cake and the Past

by FernStone



Series: Food Omens [5]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Food Service, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Restaurant, Established Relationship, Fast Food, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Mental Health Issues, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Nonbinary Beelzebub (Good Omens), Other, Past, References to Depression, They/Them Pronouns for Beelzebub (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 08:15:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21353065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FernStone/pseuds/FernStone
Summary: A snippet of the past, as told by Beez-Beez had never been anything short of perfect. Their grades were outstanding, the work ethic incredible and their culinary skills saw them top of the class. Sure, they came from a poorer background, but that didn't matter when they had the talent.How wrong they'd been.
Relationships: Beelzebub/Gabriel (Good Omens)
Series: Food Omens [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1481564
Comments: 12
Kudos: 45





	A Slice of Cake and the Past

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back! Sort of xD uni is a pain
> 
> Anyway I'm not entirely happy with this, there's a lot of showing and not telling. Anyway this has some past stuff and I plan to write a full fic for the past (aka when Beez and Gabriel both worked in heaven). I wanted to write this better but figured no point sitting in it too long. Also the next one is already written since its p short!
> 
> Sorry for what I imagine are many mistakes I didn't have the time or energy to thoroughly proofread. One day I'll ask someone to beta xD

Gabriel hummed cheerfully to himself as he turned the key in the lock, opening the door into Beez's flat. They'd only recently given him a key with reason of it being too much hassle to buzz him in almost every day, or for him to hang around their work when he wanted to stay over on a work night. He knew it was more than than and was honoured that they trusted him with it after only a month of dating.

It meant he could go over and cook for them on his days off and similar romantic acts. Well, that was the plan for today at least. He hoped that he'd impress them with the meal he had planned. He couldn't wait.

He put down the bag of groceries and took of his shoes, placing them beside Beez's.

Then paused.

Beez's shoes, the ones they wore every day to work, were in front of the door. That must mean they were home. Strange. Maybe they finished early? Or were ill.

"Beez, you home?" He called out softly, sticking his head into the living room cross kitchen. He placed the bag on a counter with a frown. No sign of them on the sofa, where they'd normally be if he visited and they were already there. Strange. Must be ill.

Quietly (stomping slightly less than normal) he moved to the bedroom door and gently knocked. He was sure he heard movement in there but no actual response.

Stealing himself for inevitably catching the flu of his partner, he opened the door and stepped in.

Instead of a lying down, poorly Beez he found a blanket ball with no visible sign of their head. It was as if they'd curled up and wrapped the duvet around them. Concerned, he approached the bed.

"Beez?"

He heard a sniff, and then their head poked out from the mass of blankets. Their eyes were red and slightly puffy and they looked like more of a mess than normal. Gabriel frowned with concern.

"Gabriel," they tried to say evenly, but their voice was shaky. "I didn't expect you until later."

"What happened?" He asked softly, moving towards the bed and them. He wanted to just wrap them up into a hug and never let go, but something told him that wouldn't be welcome right now by how they hadn't emerged from their blanket protection.

"Nothing happened, it just... Happens," they looked uncomfortable but kept talking anyway. "I have depression. It was never important to say before. I have stuff to make it manageable, but low points sometimes happen or stuff causes it."

Gabriel blinked. He hadn't even realised or thought to ask about something like that. Sure, Beez was always grumpy and sarcastic, but it hadn't been obvious. "Is there any way I can help?"

"Just stay with me," they looked so vulnerable at that moment, as if he might leave. He nodded and sat down on the bed. "And maybe listen. But don't touch me, not just now."

He nodded again, moving himself so he was more comfortably sitting on the bed. Close enough to Beez for comfort but without any contact. He was there to help them however they needed - even if he had no experience of it, he just wanted to be here for them.

They sat in silence for a bit, Beez sniffing slightly and shifting closer to him in their blanket ball.

Then they opened their mouth and started talking.

"I used to enjoy cooking, you know. Before I went to culinary school. I was always good at it but my mum wanted me to become an accountant or something more sensible. It was my Aunt who encouraged me to pursue being a Chef. So I did. I don't regret it, because I love my job now, but culinary school was tough."

Gabriel nodded in agreement. He'd loved culinary school, and had met Michael through it, but it was incredibly difficult to get through and graduate. So many people dropped out. The kitchen really wasn't for everyone.

"Not for the normal reasons. I didn't find the work or cooking hard. Just... The other stuff."

"What do you mean?" Gabriel was slightly confused now.

Beez sniffed. "The social side, I guess."

-

Beez had never been anything short of perfect. Their grades were outstanding, the work ethic incredible and their culinary skills saw them top of the class. Sure, they came from a poorer background, but that didn't matter when they had the talent. 

How wrong they'd been. 

Beez had gone into culinary school bright eyed and delighted to be given an opportunity to pursue a career in what they loved. They'd quickly made a name for themselves by doing best in every test, no one coming close to unseating them from their top spot. On the outside everyone congratulated them and was delighted for them. 

It was all a facade put on in front of the lecturers. It was so easy for the school to pretend it cared when someone from a lower class background was doing well. It didn't matter what people said behind their back, the fact that they had no friends. No, there was no evidence of bullying. 

"I hate it," they'd cried to their mother over the phone during the first of many breakdowns half way through their first year, when it finally got too much for them. 

"Nonsense, you're doing so well," their mother tutted down the phone. "Isn't this what you always wanted?" 

"Yes, but mum, nobody wants me here." 

Their mother hummed thoughtfully before there was shouting in background. "I'm sorry, dear, I have to go. We'll talk later." 

They never did. 

They would be fine, they told themselves. They just had to continue doing what they love. That was what mattered. 

But then their grades had started slipping as the bullying got worse. And with it their mental health took a spiral until they ended up at rock bottom. 

They spent more time in bed than not, almost always ending up crying in the bathroom even if they made it to class. It just made them feel worse. The constant taunts and the sinking feeling that they would never actually make it. They weren't even top of their class anymore, their grades were nowhere near good enough, how could they expect to get job? And it didn't even stop the taunting. If anything it got worse - the fact that they'd been so good yet were now failing. People took great joy in their failure. 

They took a year out after being admitted to hospital a few too many times, deemed a risk to themselves. They tried to look after themselves and went on medicine. They pretended they couldn't see the disappointment in their mother's eyes when they got home from being admitted to the ward. 

They got better, sort of. They coped better. They ignored the scars and the words of previous classmates that haunted them. 

When they went back it wasn't as bad. Not because people treated them better. No, of course they wouldn't be treated better - not someone as unlikeable as them. But they managed to stay under the radar and cope. 

Graduated and that was all that mattered. 

-

"Oh Beez, I'm sorry," Gabriel frowned down at his partner, who has shifted into his arms while they talked. He held them loosely, not wanting to cause them any discomfort, trying to ignore the fact they had began shaking at some of the tougher parts. 

Beez shook their head. "Not your fault." 

"But still... I never knew you went through that," Gabriel gulped, for once at loss for how to phrase something. "I didn't know that when you started at Heaven's. And I was so-" 

Beez cut him off with a frown. "You're not the reason I quit. You weren't even the worse thing there." Even if they'd always clashed when they worked together, perhaps because they were a little too similar and little too opinionated. Beez still didn't think they could work with Gabriel even if they were dating. 

"Then why did you?" Gabriel looked down at them softly, curiosity and worry fighting it out across his features. 

"That's a long story," Beez gave a weak smile. "But I'll tell you." 

They'd planned to say anyway. Since, really, it was what had happened at Heaven that made going there affect them so much. 

-

They started working at Heaven's Kitchen thanks to Lucifer, an older friend from their highschool days. While he was a few years older and had gone to another, less prestigious culinary school they'd kept in touch. Now he was a member of management at Heaven and with Beez's credentials it had been easy to get a job. 

Beez had instantly gotten off on the wrong foot with one of the sous chefs, Michael. After a few arguments and threats of being fired, they'd settled down and decided to just tough it out and do their job. They still loved cooking after all. Nothing could take that away from them. 

Then there was Gabriel. Stuck up ass and the other sous chef. The two of them fought constantly when on the same shifts but it wasn't quite the same as with Michael. Gabriel made no real threats towards Beez's job. If anything he was more tolerable. 

He acknowledged that Beez could cook. That was more than the others did. 

They were an outcast among the other chefs. It was easy to tell there was a division in the restaurant between those from a well off background and those who weren't. Beez was the only chef without rich parents, without some stupid poncy English accent, and it made them different. It was just like school all over again. 

But at least they still got to do what they loved. And they had two friends, Hastur and Ligur, who worked as waiters and cleaners. 

By the time Dagon joined the kitchen Beez was an established chef, and honestly one of the best. They were loathe to admit that the only one who could beat them was Gabriel (a competitiveness would often come out between them). It was nice to have someone else like them as a chef, even if they were still outnumbered. 

It didn't change anything. Really, things got worse and with it their mental health. Beez found themselves often relegated to menial jobs along with Dagon - the kind that a chef of their experience shouldn't be doing. The bore the weight of the jokes that it was all they could do and the constant criticism of their dishes from the head chef, Mettatron.

Because at least they could cook, right? 

It didn't matter that they'd stopped looking after themselves, could barely stand to look at a kitchen or a meal when they got home. That they spent all their free time curled in bed staring at the walls. That thoughts they'd thought gone were beginning to resurface. 

At least they could still do what they loved, even if they were bad at it. 

And Dagon seemed to be coping with it fine, so why couldn't they? Dagon may get less of the brunt of it due to Beez having been there longer, having established themselves and fought back at first, but still. Wasn't it just weak of them to let it get to them? 

It all reached a breaking point when Mettatron moved to management and Gabriel was promoted to head chef. Sous chef was up for grabs and both Lucifer and Dagon were convinced that Beez would get it. They were the most experienced, after all, and one of the best. 

Beez believed them and let themself hope. 

Then Sandalphon got the job. Mediocre, pushover Sandalphon. 

"You should demand answers," Dagon muttered angrily as the two of them took a smoking break in the back alley. They were always alone here, because most of the posh staff members refused to come out here among the bins. The two of them always relaxed more in this area. 

" What good will that do," Beez crushed the cigarette beneath their shoe. 

"You should've gotten the job! We all know you're better by far." 

"Not all. Only you guys do." You guys being Lucifer, Dagon, Hastur and Listur. Not really a large number. 

"You at least deserve a reason." 

"Fine," Beez sighed, pushing themselves off the wall. "I'll ask before my break is done." 

Dagon gave them a thumbs up and a quick good luck as they headed back into the restaurant. After neatening their hair and clothes a little they headed towards Metatron's office. 

They almost walked straight into Michael who was on her way out. 

"Beez," she looked down at them with narrowed eyes. "Shouldn't you be in the kitchen?" 

"I'm still on break," Beez kept their tone even. They'd learnt early it was best not to fight with Michael. Especially now that she was a manager. "I was going to speak to Metatron." 

"About?"

With her completely blocking the door there was no way to not say. Repressed a hiss, Beez responded. "About why Sandalphon got the sous chef job over me, when I'm more qualified and experienced." 

Michael raised an eyebrow, before laughing. Beez felt their ears turn red and a mixture of shame and anger rise up in them. "You, sous chef? That's an idiotic dream of yours." 

"I'm more qualified." They couldn't quite stop their voice from shaking. 

"More qualified doesn't mean better," Michael sneered. "Your cooking is in no way up to the restaurants standards. I'm honestly surprised they ever kept you in the kitchen doing more than cleaning the dishes. Really, I don't know how you graduated culinary school. You're only working here because of your connections."

Beez blinked, speechless, a feeling of emptiness clawing through their throat and burning of tears in their eyes. 

"I wouldn't waste your time, or more importantly Metatron's, with this. He'll just give you the same answer I did. You're not good enough." With that said Michael left. 

Hesitating, Beez raised shaking hand ready to knock the door. Then dropped it. There was no point. They would just get told the same thing. 

They headed back to the kitchen, fighting the urge to cry and wanting nothing more than to just curl up in bed alone. 

That's when any joy they had for cooking left them. Or for anything, really. They missed one day of work because they couldn't get out of bed and face the world. Then two. Then a week. 

The only reason they didn't lose their job was because of Lucifer. Even when they managed to make it in it was all a monotony to them. 

So when Lucifer came to them with the idea to start their own place, entirely different from Heaven, they'd jumped on it. Anything to escape from there. 

So they'd started Hell together. 

-

Gabriel held Beez close to him, wrapping them up and just holding them in his lap silently. It was a lot to take in. He'd never really thought about what had pushed the workers to move to Hell, just thought that they didnt find the work place to suit them. How oblivious he'd been. 

How different, back then. He'd always looked down on them. He still had until recently, really. Now he realised it had been so stupid to do so. He'd always thought of the members of Hell as being gross - and sure they didn't run the cleanest ship. But they were hygienic themselves (mostly) and Beez always had been when working at Heaven. He'd just... Judged them for not having as nice clothes or similar. 

"I'm sorry," he mumbled again, this time into their hair. 

"Don't," Beez shook their head, dislodging him slightly. "It's in the past, it's happened. I'm over it." 

"Are you really?" 

Beez craned their neck to give him a pained look. "I will be. It just takes time." 

Gabriel decided not to push them on that. It had been years already, and he didn't quite understand, but he could support. 

"I couldn't even cook for the first few months after I left," Beez spoke softly, snuggling back against Gabriel. "It just reminded me of it. I thought I was a terrible chef."

"You're not. You're an amazing chef. I always thought that, even when we worked together. We clashed but I still respected your skill." 

"I know," Beez shrugged, a slight smile playing at the corners of their lips. "But you were the only one that did, even if we didn't get on. Being there just reminded me of everything and how inferior I'd felt. It made me feel so uncomfortable. It's irrational because I know I'm not, but it was a crushing feeling. I just needed a day to recover from that. I'm better now, really, just I have bad days sometimes. That didn't help."

Gabriel nodded, holding them closer to him. He didn't know what to say - for one rarely at loss for words it was strange. But somehow he knew that Beez was fine with just the physical comfort and being able to talk to him. He didn't have much experience with someone going through feeling so low, but he made a mental note to learn so he could help more in the future. 

"I think everything that was said then is entirely wrong," Gabriel eventually said, voice soft. "I know you don't believe it anymore but I want you to know I don't either. I'm a different person to how I was then." 

"We both are," Beez's smile was rueful with a bit more spirit in it. "Thank you, for staying with me."

"It's what any good partner would do," Gabriel shook his head in slight disbelief. Of course he wouldnt leave Beez when they felt so sad, unless they'd wanted him too. "Well, if you're feeling a little better, how about we order some takeaway. I don't know about you but I feel like a lazy night is in order." 

"That sounds perfect." 


End file.
